


Going Back, Going Home

by queenitsy



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, F/M, Futurefic, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Recreational Drug Use, character history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/pseuds/queenitsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendall goes to the rink to connect with his past. James wants to be famous to forget about his. Futurefic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Back, Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> Angst and sadness, because apparently that's what my brain does with the world's zaniest canon. idk.

> _Every time I come back in this town I know  
>  I've finally learned the difference between  
> Going back and going home_  
> \-- Butch Walker, [Going Back/Going Home](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1cEYJDW0JI)

There are a few bars in Kendall's hometown, but his favorite is the Old Firehouse, which is actually, technically, named Jim's Bar. It's just that Kendall has lived there long enough that he, like most of the town, will always remember that the building used to be a firehouse. To avoid confusion, everyone calls the current firehouse The Old Post Office, and the current post office is The New Post Office, even though the buildings all shifted locations almost a decade ago. Small town living is more confusing than most people realize.

Kendall likes the Old Firehouse. Jim -- a friendly, retired fireman -- invites him to perform every now and then, and gives him free drinks in exchange for Kendall waiving the rental fee when his grandson skates at Kendall's rink. It's always a pretty chill atmosphere, a nice mix of old-timers watching hockey at the bar and townies playing darts and pool. Kendall finishes his set to a smattering of applause and waves, then puts his guitar away. He hands it to Jim to stow behind the bar until he's ready to go, but instead of handing him his regular, Jim nods down the bar. Kendall looks, and...

James doesn't wear subtle well. He's made an effort; he's not wearing anything flashy or expensive looking, though Kendall would lay money on a bet that James' casual jeans cost at least a few hundred dollars. James also has a hood pulled up, and he's staring at his hands, splayed in front of him on the bar.

Something is really, really wrong. James hasn't been home in years, and there's no way he would show up out of the blue like this unless it's a crisis. And if it is, he should have called.

Kendall walks down, clears his throat, and says cautiously, "Hey, stranger."

James looks up at him, and James looks broken. There's no smile, nothing behind his eyes but desperation. He says, "Kendall," and it sounds like he's begging.

"What's wrong?" Kendall asks, even as he holds up two fingers to Jim. Thank god, Jim must see the state James is in, because he goes for hard liquor, pouring them both doubles.

James says, "My mom died."

Kendall's world goes out from under him. James' mom... Well, James loves his mom, even though Kendall's not sure she's always deserved it. He swallows, wanting to ask how and when, but he knows James will volunteer when he's ready, so Kendall just says, "I'm sorry."

They drink in quiet for a few minutes. Someone else takes the stage, and Kendall winces at a voice that can't quite warble through the high notes it keeps going for.

James finishes his drink, and Kendall catches Jim's eye. Another appears on the bar. Eventually, James says, "She was sober. I guess that's something."

Kendall nods. It's no small thing, either. James put his mom into treatment at least three times, and it never quite succeeded. James never gave up on her, though. Kendall knows it broke James' heart every time she relapsed, every time she moved back to Minnesota and Dennis instead of staying with him.

There's nothing Kendall can say to make James feel better, and he knows it. So they drink and don't talk. It must be pretty clear to everyone that this is not a good time, because James is usually mobbed everywhere he goes, but almost no one approaches. Just the singer. James manages to fake a smile, shake his hand, and that's that. Kendall quits drinking after his second, but he keeps James in booze, and for a change he insists on paying up. Jim didn't sign up for this, and James can hold a lot of liquor.

It takes more than an hour before James is swaying silently on his stool. He looks up at Kendall, who nods. "C'mon, Jamie," a nickname James stopped letting him use when they were 13, "let's go home."

James slurs, "I got a room."

"Whatever," Kendall says, and supports James as they stagger out. They'll come collect James' rental tomorrow. Kendall pours James into his passenger seat and drives home. James takes heaving, deep breaths that Kendall knows are him struggling to keep control, and Kendall doesn't even pause when they get to his house. His mom is asleep in her room, so he makes a shhing noise as he pulls James to his. It isn't like this is the first time they've snuck in, trying not to wake her, though it's been years. Since they were kids.

James must think the same thing. "Like old times," he mumbles, as Kendall pulls off his Buster Clydes. James neither fights nor helps as Kendall gets him stripped down to boxer-briefs and folds his clothes. Then Kendall hesitates, hand on the doorknob, ready to go sleep in the den, unless --

James says, "Don't go."

Kendall doesn't. Just like he knew he wouldn't from the second he saw James in the bar. And it isn't exactly comfortable but it _is_ familiar when he falls asleep with James wrapped around him, holding on as if his life depends on it.

\--

Kendall wakes to his mother's voice: "What kind of eggs? Oh!"

She's opened his door. Kendall sits up, and next to him, James groans blearily. "Hey, Mom," Kendall says.

"Got enough for an extra?" James adds, pushing himself up. Then, shyly, as if she hadn't known him his whole life, "Hey, Mrs. Knight."

"It's been a long time," she says, stepping in.

Kendall gets up and makes an excuse about brushing his teeth. He leaves them, but glances back. His mother has an arm around James and he's staring at the ground. Kendall leaves them, thinking that she was a better mother to James that James' own ever was.

Kendall makes coffee and reads the paper as he waits. When James appears, he looks exhausted, and Kendall doubts it's the hangover.

His mom makes then breakfast. Kendall's phone rings. He picks it up guiltily, not wanting to bother with anything but James, but he should be on his way to the rink. "Hey, Steph, I can't..."

"Can't..?" she prompts. She runs the business side of the rink, and Kendall likes that she doesn't usually let him slide when he's got work to do. It's good for him, but not right now.

"I've got a family crisis. I won't be around for a few days."

"Is your mom okay? I'll get Chris here to open--"

"She's fine. Thanks. I'll... I'll try to be in touch, but I've got to run."

After he hangs up, James cocks his head and asks, "I'm family?"

"Well, you're a crisis," Kendall teases, but he's relieved. It was the first thing James has said that's actually sounded like James.

"So honey, what... happened?" his mom asks.

James shrugs. "It was just... After everything she did to herself, she was in bad shape. It was a heart attack, and by the time Dennis found her..."

"I'm so sorry," she says, and kisses James' head as she walks by to start the dishes. "What can we do to help?"

"Nothing, Mrs. Knight. I'm fine. I've already imposed, Kendall, if you can just give me a lift I'll get my car--"

"And your stuff from your hotel, and bring it back here," Kendall interrupts.

"Not what I was going to say."

Kendall raises his eyebrows, daring James to argue, and James doesn't. Kendall knows it wasn't a coincidence that James was at that bar. James needs help, and James has always, always come to Kendall. If Kendall knew from the moment he saw James that he'd end up getting James through the night, well, James must have known from the minute he drove up that there was no way Kendall would leave him to deal with this on his own.

"I should let my assistant know I'm not dead, though," James says, and Kendall can tell he's trying to force some cheer into his voice. "Actually, I should swing by and talk with him."

"I'll go with you," Kendall says.

James gives him a grateful look. They both kiss Kendall's mom on the cheek on their way out, and after they pick up James' rental (a surprisingly non-flashy car, fitting the low profile he's obviously hoping to keep) Kendall leads the way downtown, or what passes for it in their town. There's an area that's got a bunch of artsy shops, and sheltered between that and the stripmalls and grocery stores is a handful of hotels, restaurants, and office buildings. (And, Kendall thinks guiltily, his rink.)

James' assistant, Rob, is a kid in his early 20s. When he looks at James his eyes practically turn into cartoon hearts. Kendall wonders if that's why James hired him -- not that James would do that on purpose or anything, but he's like a dog rescued from the shelter. He's desperate for love and affection, and will be loyal to the end to anyone who gives that to him. Even when they don't really deserve it.

Kendall sinks into an armchair in Rob's suite guiltily, keeping an ear on the conversation. As Rob lets James know what still needs to be done for the funeral, Kendall has the worst thought he's ever, ever had: James' life might actually be a lot easier now.

James' mom was definitely a drain on him. Always. Kendall remembers being a little afraid of her when they were kids, when he didn't understand why she always seemed a kind of weird. He's not sure she's ever had a job for more than a few months at a time, except around when she and Dennis got married. And after the band actually started getting successful, she and Dennis were both terrible. James wasn't 18 yet and they spent his money like it was nothing. Thank god Kelly and Gustavo had created a trust fund for him, or James would have been broke when he finally was a legal adult. Since then, he's _still_ supported them. If it wasn't for James, they'd have lost the house, for sure. It's a miracle they haven't spent more time in jail. James talked his mom into rehab a few times, but Dennis refused, and he always, always ruined everything. And now...

Now it's over. Kendall hates himself for being relieved because he shouldn't be glad anyone is dead. He does wish it was Dennis instead, but he's always wished that and doesn't feel bad about it anymore.

Rob has already taken care of a lot of the planning. James looks guilty instead of relieved, but agrees with everything Rob's done. It'll be in two days, all James has left to do is go to the funeral home and settle some details -- and let everyone know where and when. Rob offers to do it for him, if James just gives him a list. James shakes him off, though, and insists on doing it himself.

Kendall sits and listens as James has the same conversation over and over again. Yes, it was sudden. He can't believe it, either. Saturday, two o'clock. Yeah, he's canceled some shows, and he's taking a few days for himself while he copes. Thanks for the support. Thanks for coming. Okay. Bye. Over and over and over. Kendall tenses every time it's obvious someone has asked James about his career, brought up the fact that he's actually really famous, but James always just barrels through. Kendall doesn't know how. Eventually, Rob walks over to Kendall silently, hands him a takeout menu. He doesn't interrupt James, but when the food arrives, James shoots him a thankful smile and Rob swoons. Whatever he ordered must be right, then.

Thank god, James is smart enough to save Carlos and Logan for last. Neither of them can actually make it -- Carlos' show is still filming, Logan doesn't have anyone to take his patient load off his hands -- but they're both in LA, anyway. James promises them both he'll call the second he's back in town, and Kendall's grateful they'll be there to take care of James. He'd go himself, but there are another few weeks left before he shuts the rink down for the season.

James slumps in his chair after he hangs up with Carlos. He drinks the rest of his water. He sits there. Kendall waits. James picks his phone back up and dials.

Kendall hadn't realized there was anyone else to call. When James says, "Yeah. It's James," he knows who it is. He goes tense as James continues: "Yeah, I -- _yes_. Of fucking course I'm here. I'm planning my mom's funeral, where the hell have _you_ been? Saturday. Two. Try to get sober first, if you bother showing up."

James hangs up, but before Kendall can say anything, try to help, do _anything_ , James hurls his phone at the wall. It breaks into a few pieces that crash to the floor. James turns away from Kendall, from Rob, hands clenched into fists.

Kendall stands up. "Come on. We're going skating."

James turns back, stares at him. "Now?" His voice is tense, he's doing that deep breath, barely-holding-it-together thing again.

"It's a weekday. We'll practically have the place to ourselves. You need to... you need to _do_ something."

"Don't have my skates," James snaps, as if that'll be an excuse when the rink has plenty for rent.

But Rob clears his throat. "I, uh, I actually packed them for you. I mean, you... I thought maybe, I know you used to play hockey as a kid, so..."

"Thanks," James says. His voice is coming back to normal. "That's really thoughtful."

Rob ducks his head, hiding an enormous smile at the praise, Kendall's sure. He stands up, says he'll find them in James' stuff, and starts going through suitcases. Kendall shoots a significant look at him, then back at James. James ignores it and Kendall tries not to care. He tells himself it's not his business if James is sleeping with his assistant. James dates women publicly and sleeps with men privately -- women too, but that's never bothered Kendall. Bothered is the wrong word, but...

Kendall forces himself to stop that trail of thought. He says to Rob, "You should come with us. I'll waive the rental fee and everything."

Rob looks up, shakes his head quickly. "No, I... I should go get that phone fixed. Well, replaced. They can probably get out the data card, though, or..."

"Thanks," James says.

Rob shrugs. "It's what I'm here for. Here." He finally finds the skates, and Kendall isn't even surprised to see them. They're custom made, designed by Buster Clyde, but Kendall's willing to bet they're also damn fine skates, not just flashy. Rob hands them to James, who stands up.

"Well, Knight, come on. If I'm gonna kick your ass around your own rink, we should get going."

"Pretty sad that after your whole rockstar life, that's still your wildest dream," Kendall returns.

James throws a wave to Rob and they head out. It feels weirdly thrilling to know that James doesn't have his phone, that he's actually off the grid for awhile. That Kendall will have his undivided attention.

The rink isn't too far away. James' skates are tied together at the laces, they dangle from one of his hands as he follows Kendall in. Kendall leads him in through the back door, closer to his office. That's where they both change into their skates. Kendall doesn't miss the pile of papers on his desk, stuff Steph probably needs him to sign, and he wonders what James thinks of this place, Kendall's home away from home. He wonders if James notices the cane in the corner.

Kendall never planned to buy the rink. He wanted to play hockey. But on their last tour there was an accident with one of the stage trap doors, it slammed shut on Kendall, though Kendall doesn't remember much except waking in the hospital. They had to cancel weeks of shows. He's got a metal rod in his leg now, and it took him weeks to be able to walk again, even with the cane. It ended any hope he still had for hockey -- yeah, _now_ he's recovered in full, except occasional twinges when the weather's changing or whatever. He can even skate, but there's no way he could take the abuse of hockey.

The rink sort of fell into his lap. He'd just moved home when he saw it was shutting its doors. Kendall took a chunk of his BTR money and bought it. The previous owner couldn't turn nearly enough profit off it, and neither can Kendall, but the difference is Kendall doesn't need to. He turned all his financials over to Katie ages ago, she's invested smartly, and Kendall doesn't keep track much but he's pretty sure he's worth way more now than he was the day the band broke up. So he keeps this rink open because he loves it, and if he didn't want summers free to travel he'd give up on any pretense of making a profit and just keep it open year round.

He and James both move on skates as easily as in shoes. They clomp through the hall, into the lobby -- Kendall glances at Steph, who's doing paperwork behind the rental counter, and she raises her eyebrows -- and then to the ice. He was right, there are only a few people out. Kids have school, adults have work, and basically no one thinks to go skating after the snow's finally melted off.

Kendall knows within seconds that this was the right place to bring James. James hits the ice and is off like a shot, all of his pent up emotions from the last few days coming loose as he moves. Kendall doesn't bother trying to keep up at first, just takes it easy as James laps him, laps him again, then actually executes a really nice turn so he's skating backwards just in front of Kendall. Kendall's impressed; James probably doesn't get to skate too often, but he hasn't lost any of his skill.

"So does that rod in your leg mean you _always_ skate someone's grandmother?" James taunts.

Kendall laughs. James is good, but Kendall's on this ice _every day_. He reaches out, one hand to James' shoulder, says, "Tag," and takes off. James yells and comes after him, and it's three laps before James catches him. They thread their way around the few other skaters, moving so fast that a wipeout could do serious damage, but even with their friendly shoves as they pass one another, neither loses his balance at all.

It's half an hour before Kendall feels the twinge in his leg. He ignores it until it becomes a steady throb, and he grimaces against the pain. He's covered in sweat now, though, and he knows from frustrating years of experience that if he doesn't knock it off soon, he won't be able to move without agony for a few days.

He finally gives in, flags down James, and points at his leg. James cuts around and halts, his face fallen. Kendall says, "I'm sorry, it's just --"

"No, shit, I should have remembered. Do you need... need help, or... Kendall, I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, Jamie. I just need some ice and some aspirin." And not the cane. He's absolutely not using a cane in front of James, because James will find a way to blame himself. He obviously already does. Kendall moves slowly, carefully, so James won't see him limp or wince when he puts weight on it.

As they head off the ice, he sees they've gained an audience. Steph is watching from the entrance. "Hey," Kendall says. "Uh, Steph, James; James, Steph."

"Sorry for monopolizing his time," James puts in.

"It's no problem," Steph says. "I do most of the work around here anyway."

"True," Kendall admits. He collapses into his chair in his office, trying not to let on what a relief it is to get off his feet, and unlaces his skates. "So she can spare me for a few days."

"But if you're busy, who'll be around here to be late signing timecards and forget to review all the work I do? And gosh, who'll be here to be sarcastic and think he's way smarter than he is?"

James laughs, and Kendall says cheerfully, "You're fired."

"You couldn't live without me and you know it."

"That's a lot of credit you're giving yourself," he says. "I could definitely live without you. I just I couldn't run this place."

"And you couldn't live without somewhere to skate," she says.

"Point. Fine. You win. I can't live without you, please don't ever leave me."

"Thank you."

James looks up at them, amused. "It's good you've got him trained. He used to be so stubborn."

Kendall puts his bad leg up and grimaces at the effort, then digs into his desk drawer and pulls out the painkillers. He downs three and says to James, "Don't encourage her."

"You seem really familiar," James says.

Steph nods. "I was a few years behind you in school. Stephanie Rowe?"

"Right." James snaps his fingers. "Your older sister was a cheerleader, right? Trisha? I think we went out a few times."

She nods. "Yeah, she still brags about that, actually."

James laughs. "So how is she? Still in town?"

"Um, yeah." Steph looks at him like he's grown another head.

"You two should come out with us tonight," James says.

Steph glances at Kendall. "Yeah, I mean, if my boss will give me the evening off. He's dumping some extra work on me this week, though..."

"Yeah, 'cause you ever do anything I ask you to," Kendall says.

"Most of what you ask me to do is stupid."

"Seriously," James says. "My phone isn't working right now, but Kendall will call you with details. We'll see you there. Somewhere. My treat."

"I guess we'll be there. Trish would probably kill me if I said no, anyway."

"Great." James flashes her the rockstar smile, and she giggles. Kendall rolls his eyes and holds out a hand. James hauls him up and Kendall stifles a groan as he puts weight on his leg.

"See you then," Kendall says.

"Don't take any of your paperwork with you as you go or anything!" Steph calls after them.

"You're driving," Kendall says, and hands the keys to James. He doesn't want to agitate his leg. After he buckles up, he adds, "So what the hell was that?"

"Was what?"

"You really want to go out with Trisha Rowe?"

"No," James says. "But you and Stephanie sure seem to want to do each other. So have you two ever had sex on your desk?"

"You really _are_ an idiot."

"You and she never...?"

"No! I'm her boss. And she doesn't -- we don't -- I hate you."

"You love me." James shoots him a grin, looking and sounding more like himself than he has all day. "You can't fool me, though, you totally have a thing for her."

"Unlike you, I don't sleep with people who work for me."

"I'm not sleeping with Rob."

Kendall ignores the irrational surge of relief he feels at that, and says, "You know he wants you."

"So does everyone. I'm very good looking, Kendall." James shakes his head. "Rob's a sweet kid. I don't want to break his heart or anything, and I'm not... you know, I don't think I'll ever be ready to commit or anything, so... So what's your excuse with Steph?"

"What?"

"Why haven't you just asked her out? And don't give me that boss crap, she obviously doesn't care."

Kendall mulls it over as they make their way to the more residential area of town where he lives. After all these years, James still remembers the way. Finally, he just says, "I don't know. Maybe I'm not big on commitment, either."

"Well, see how it goes tonight." James takes a hand off the wheel to jostle his shoulder. "So how's your leg?"

"Fine."

"Liar. You're icing that as soon as we're home, even if I have to hold you down to make you do it."

Kendall scowls. He'd rather do the care-taking than have someone take care of him. But when they get home, he grudgingly takes out an icepack and elevates his leg some more, propping it up on the living room table. James sits next to him, leaning against him.

They're still just hanging out, joking and jostling each other while Kendall ices his leg, and everything is fine when Kendall's phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and doesn't know the number, but when he answers, it's Rob, panicked. "Some guy -- he showed up, he says he knows James -- this hotel doesn't even have security and I don't know what to --"

"Is he still there?"

"No, no, he screamed at me about James, and he left."

Kendall winces and says, "Okay. We'll take care of it. Sorry about that, it's... We'll be by to get James' stuff, too."

"Okay," Rob says, and he sounds shaken. "Okay, thanks."

Kendall hangs up and glances over at James.

"What...?" James asks.

Kendall just says, "Dennis."

\--

Once upon a time, back when they were 12, Dennis seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to James. James' dad had been in and out of jail a few times already by that point, Kendall can't remember if he'd gone away for good yet. James's mom met Dennis at a mandatory driving class to get her license back after her DUI. They were both trying to get sober, and they helped each other out. The next thing everyone knew, they were getting married, and she and James had moved from Ray's, the trailer park where James had grown up, to Dennis' house. Kendall's mom had gone on and on about that, about how important it was for kids to have yards and space and safety -- it was the first time Kendall realized how much his mother had hated it when _they'd_ lived at Ray's.

For maybe six months, everything had been fine. Before Dennis lost his job, before he backslid and dragged James' mom with him. Kendall tries to remind himself alcoholism is a disease. As they arrived at the house, he has trouble caring.

The house is a wreck, even from the outside: muddy lawn with almost no grass but plenty of weeds, a rusted out car in the driveway. Kendall wonders what the press would say if they realized this was the house where James Diamond spent his adolescence -- the trailer where he actually grew up has been gone for years now.

It isn't locked. James lets himself in and Kendall trails behind him. The place is a mess inside, too. James yells, "Dennis!"

Dennis walks in from the kitchen. Kendall feels like all the air goes out of the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dennis demands. "People have been calling. You can't go a single goddamn day without --"

"You weren't there!" James interrupts, the words exploding out of him. "Where the hell were you, Dennis? Out with your drinking buddies? _While my mother died?_ "

"You ungrateful bastard, you haven't even been here in years, and now you just come waltzing in here like you own the place --"

"I do, actually," James snaps. "Yeah, this house? Belongs to me, because when your sorry ass couldn't make mortgage payments, I bailed you out. And if we want to talk bail, let's not forget about the times I _literally_ bailed you out."

Dennis narrows his eyes, clenches a fist. "Are you threatening me? In my own home? How dare you --"

"No," James interrupts. "I'm not threatening you. I don't care about any of that shit. Actually, I don't care _what_ you do anymore. Just leave me alone."

"Fine with me."

"Good," James snaps. "I'll call a real estate agent. The house is yours, I don't even care. Just don't ever, ever talk to me again after the funeral."

Kendall blinks, surprised, and for a moment shock flickers across Dennis' face, too. James must have already thought about this, decided to get rid of the place or something. After a second, Dennis nods. "Fine. Now get out of here."

"Yeah." James straightens up. "I'll be back tomorrow, though. For when people come by. It wouldn't kill you to clean up this shithole."

"Get the hell out."

"Whatever." James turns around and barrels through the door. Kendall glances back at Dennis as he follows, but he can't read Dennis' expression.

They head back to the hotel. Rob looks a little afraid when he sees James' expression. He holds a shiny, new phone out tenuously. James takes it, slides it into his pocket. "Thanks. I won't break this one."

"Who... who was..."

James throws himself down in a chair. "Dennis. Step-dad. Asshole. He won't bother you again, I'm sorry he did that."

"It's fine, I just didn't know. I mean, you never talk about... about this town."

James snorts. "What's there to talk about? There's a hockey rink. A movie theater. Two grocery stores, three trailer parks --"

"Two," Kendall corrects. Since Ray's burnt down, there's just the two.

"Whatever. Like it makes a difference. I hate this goddamn place, once we go, I'm never coming back."

Kendall looks away at that. He knows that's how James feels, how he's always felt, but it aches. This town has been good to Kendall. He gets it, a little -- he always wanted to leave, too, when they were kids. Play hockey, get out of here. But for all hockey didn't pan out, he escaped. Saw the world, made his money. He came back here by choice. He likes that he knows his neighbors, likes that he recognizes all the kids who skate at his rink. Things weren't always great for him growing up, but this is his home. He probably loves this town just as much as James hates it.

Eventually, James stands up and grabs for one of the suitcases. "Kendall and I have a date tonight. Did you pack anything hot?"

"You two -- what?" Rob blinks a few times.

"Not with each other," Kendall says, rolling his eyes.

"Oh! Oh." Rob's face is bright red. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

James chuckles and Kendall rolls his eyes. "It's fine. He's meddling."

"Yup, because you'll never make a move if I don't. Oh, you should wear this." He tosses a shirt at Kendall.

"I'm not wearing your clothing, James."

"Sorry, it's just that I try not to be seen in public with guys wearing flannel. Try this one, if you don't like the other." He throws another shirt at Kendall.

"You're in town, what, four days? Five? Why did you pack for a month?"

"Try it on, I said. Don't make me pin you down and peel your shirt off. You know I will."

Kendall rolls his eyes enormously as he starts to unbutton his flannel, and he won't ever admit it, but when James' eyes rake over him, his stomach flutters. He thinks if Rob wasn't there... But Rob is, and James looks away, and Kendall is just left wondering.

\--

Steph and Trisha meet them at the restaurant. Trisha can't stop tittering at everything James says, and every time she does Steph gives Kendall an apologetic look. They have a booth near the back, and James is so fucking natural at this. He's all smiles, he's got his arm around Trisha casually, and you'd never know from looking at him that he's dealing with anything right now.

Kendall feels a little more awkward with Steph next to him. She looks nice, her hair down, and she's even a little dressed up. Or at least she's not wearing flannel, either. Kendall wonders if Trisha had to force her out of it, since she's as likely to wear it to the rink as Kendall is.

They eat, they chat. Trisha swoons, James tells stories about being on tour, the people he's met. The waitress shyly asks for a picture and James obliges. That starts a trickle of people coming over to ask. He's a sweetheart to them all, way more patient than Kendall would be, and he always has an apologetic smile for the rest of the table. It's a perfect balance of charm and fame and humility, and Kendall's pretty sure that if James wanted, Trisha would happily put out in the bathroom.

At least Steph isn't overwhelmed by James' fame. She harasses Kendall about the concessions stand stock and what's running out and what he ordered too much of. It's comfortable, a work meeting at a restaurant, and they get along fine. Sitting next to each other, he can smell her shampoo, and when she shifts a little he can feel her leg pressed to his. And it's... it's nice, he guesses.

Eventually, still making calf-eyes, Trisha asks James, "So what are you back in town for?"

Kendall's head snaps up and he only recognizes James' look of panic because he knows James so well. It's gone after a heartbeat, and James just gives them a sad smile, puppy-like, and confesses, "My mom died a couple days ago. I'm... I'm just here for the funeral. Taking care of her things."

Trisha coos and freaking _pets_ him, fingers stroking his soft, soft hair. Steph says, "Oh. I'm sorry."

James just shrugs. "Thanks. But, uh, I will say, I'm glad... I'm glad I've got Kendall here to lean on. I don't know where I'd be without him."

Kendall ducks his head. "That's what best friends are for."

"This week is kind of above and beyond." James clears his throat. "He's reliable, self-employed, not too hard on the eyes, and single. I'm just saying."

"James," Kendall snaps, blushing, and now _Steph_ giggles. "She knows me too well to fall for that, anyway."

"Hey, it's no trick, it's just pointing out what she probably doesn't notice because you keep it hidden under all those tacky, tacky flannel shirts and stocking caps."

"I hate you."

"You _love_ me. I'm family." James smiles like he's won, and Kendall just rolls his eyes.

They leave a few hours later -- no one in the restaurant objected to them taking up a booth long after they finished dessert. Kendall waits for James to be distracted and steals the check from him; James catches him and they fight over it, trading intelligent verbal spars like, "Your _face_ ," only to open the book and find that the meal is on the house. Probably the good press of James Diamond eating there will more than cover it. James thanks the waiter on the way out, shakes hands and poses for a photo with the manager.

There's an awkward moment when Trisha obviously hopes James will invite her home or something, but he kisses her and says he had a great time, it was so great to catch up, and not so subtly elbows Kendall.

Kendall clears his throat and gives Steph an awkward smile. "I, uh, I'll probably be back to work next week."

"Okay. I'll see you then. Call me if you need anything, Kendall." She pauses. "This was nice."

"Yeah," he says, and it's true. It was. "Yeah, we should... sometime... maybe after work or something."

She nods, and there's this moment while they're facing each other, near each other, and it's the moment they should kiss. But then Steph laughs, and so does Kendall, and they both duck away from each other. Kendall says, "Yeah, next week," and she says, "See you then," and they hurry away.

"Dude," James says accusingly. Kendall lets him drive again, and ignores the comment. " _Kendall_. What's your problem? She's smart, she loves hockey, she's cute. Seriously, what am I missing?"

The thing is... the thing is, James isn't missing anything. It's not like Kendall's never thought about it. He knows Steph is great, he knows they could probably have something good. Really good, maybe. Kendall can see it -- see their first few dates, how easily they go from friends to lovers. They'll get serious. They'll get married. Turn the rink into a franchise across Minnesota. Have kids, which will make his mom the happiest woman alive. Kendall will teach the kids to play hockey, Steph will help them with their homework. Or the other way around; Kendall was always a pretty good student, and Steph is pretty good at hockey. They'll grow old together, retire, talk about moving somewhere warmer but never do it. He can see it all so easily, like it's right there in front of him.

But then he looks over at James. And there's no future there, really, but there's so much history.

His mom is asleep when they get home, but there's a note on the pad on the fridge: _Hey honey, if you need it there's dinner in the fridge for you and James. I washed the spare sheets, they're in the den. Wake me if you need anything. Love, Mom._

James reads it over Kendall's shoulder. "She means well," Kendall says.

"I guess I know where she thinks I should be sleeping tonight," James answers. But the way he's leaning over Kendall, pressed to his back...

Kendall swallows. He ducks his head and says, hating himself for being this honest, "You know you can sleep wherever you want."

For a moment, James doesn't say or do anything. Then he turns his head just slightly, pressing his lips to Kendall's neck. It isn't even a real kiss, but Kendall turns around, his hands groping for James' shirt, and they're chest to chest, nose to nose. Kendall doesn't know which one of them starts it, but they're kissing, James' hands are on his sides, James' body is pressed against him, and he feels guilty for how much he wants this.

James wraps a hand around his wrist and they head to Kendall's bedroom together. Kendall locks the door and James pulls off his shirt and tugs Kendall to the bed. Then it's just him and James, and at first, it's everything Kendall remembers. They still fit together perfectly, he still remembers every inch of James' skin, James' mouth still feels like bliss.

But James stops too soon. He kisses Kendall full on the mouth but his arm is groping for the nightstand, for the drawer, and Kendall knows what he's reaching for. He shakes his head no, says, "James, this is fine, I like it like this."

James grabs the condom anyway, tears it open.

"James..."

"Kendall," he says softly. "I'm not -- I haven't -- I haven't been tested in awhile."

Kendall tries not to flinch. It's not about the condom. James is right, he's being smart for a change, and sure, no one _likes_ condoms but it's worth it to be with James. It's just the thought of anything coming between them -- of James with other people. But he knows how needy it is, how stupid, so he lets out a breath and nods and shivers with pleasure as James' hands run down his body, as James rolls the condom down over him, lowers himself onto Kendall.

Eventually they fall asleep, wrapped around one another this time.

\--

Kendall's leg aches the next morning. It's the previous day's overuse plus a change in the weather. He can hear early spring rain against the roof and just hopes it'll stop before it gets cold again and it turns to sleet. It doesn't.

The day is as miserable as the weather. James wears a dark suit and goes to Dennis' house. People come by. They bring flowers and food and cards. No one is so tacky they dote on James like the celebrity he is, though there are whispers and Kendall wonders if anyone would really care that much about Mrs. Diamond if her son hadn't grown up to be famous.

Dennis is there all day, but he keeps his distance, accepts his share of the condolences in another corner. Carlos calls Kendall to check up on James. James sits silently, head in his hands, when there's no one there talking to him. Kendall rubs his back, tries to convince him to eat, but he isn't hungry. Yesterday had its ups and downs, but was mostly surprisingly fine; today, not so much. Kendall supposes it's that James can't pretend, can't push it all aside and concentrate on something else now. There's no skating. No matchmaking or meddling. No sex.

The day crawls on. Rob shows up, sits near James. He mostly spends the time on his phone, probably taking care of whatever business James should be doing -- okaying appearances, chartering their flights, whatever.

Kendall's mom comes by, kisses James' forehead, pointedly ignores Dennis. Kendall smiles grimly. Then Mrs. Mitchell shows up. She hugs James, he thanks her, and Kendall tries not to be petty and remember that she never really liked Logan hanging out with James. She was always careful about where she'd let Logan go, didn't want him spending time in the trailer park. Thanks to her, Kendall always thought in terms of James' Side of Town and Logan's Side of Town.

The day wears on and James stoops further over as if he's breaking under the weight of everything. At least Dennis doesn't say anything for most of the day. He shoots some glares at James, mutters some things. Until finally Dennis' friends arrive, and they pull him out. Presumably to go drinking.

James waits around for awhile after that, then gets up. "I want to see if any of my stuff is still here," he says. He leads the way further into the house, Kendall following, Rob following him. It's clear Dennis cleaned at least the front few rooms up, since everywhere else is even worse. James wanders through the house like he's in a trance, running his hands over trinkets and tchotchkes that probably were his mom's.

They get to the bedroom. The bed's not made, and James walks to the closet. He opens it and stares at his mom's things, still hanging messily. That's when his shoulders start to shake, when deep breathing isn't enough to control it. He stumbles back to the bed, sits on it, buries his head in his hands. His loses it totally then, just comes apart at the seams. Kendall sits next to him, takes his hand, lets James sob on his shoulder. It's messy and scary and Kendall aches because he can't help. He wants to do something, to fix it and make James whole again, but there's nothing he can do except sit there.

Rob, to his credit, stays instead of running away like he must want to. Kendall wouldn't blame him. But Rob just sits against one of the walls, waiting, staring down at the floor.

Finally, James manages to get up. He washes his face, though it doesn't hide anything, and he resumes his tour of the house. There isn't much else. Just his own room. Or what was his own room. It's now stacked up with stuff that was his mom's or Dennis', but they never got around to taking his old stuff out. The walls are a jumble of things James liked when he was 13, 14: the Pussycat Dolls looking sexy, _Star Wars_ , Justin Morneau. There's a corkboard that's covered in fading, peeling pictures -- James, Kendall, Carlos, and Logan in their hockey uniforms, holding up a trophy; one of Stacy Lucas, the first girl James ever went out with; photos from school trips and sleepovers. James walks up to it, stares at the pictures, and only pulls one off. It's of his mom.

He hands it to Rob and says, "Can you scan that, or save it, or something?"

"Sure," Rob says. "Yeah. Do you want the others?"

James shakes his head. He doesn't say anything, but Kendall gets it. With the exception of himself and the guys, James is done with this town, now. This place, these people. Even Stacy Lucas, with her ponytail and butterfly earrings. James doesn't want to take them with him, probably won't ever think of them again. Kendall doesn't know how, though. Whether he likes it or not, no matter how high he climbs in life, this place is James' past.

"Let's go get take out or something," Kendall says. "Anyone else who wants you can see you tomorrow."

James nods. He walks out, flicks the lights off as he leaves. It's still raining. Only Rob has an umbrella and he hands it to James wordlessly, then hurries off to his rental car. James still has Kendall's keys and drives wordlessly. They hit a drive-through for fast food, then James pulls into the Sherwood Grocery's parking lot. He just sits there for a minute. Kendall squints, looking through the rain, and he sees a kid in a neon orange safety vest pushing shopping carts into their corral. Kendall finally ventures, "This parking lot was very good to me."

"I'll be right back." James grabs the umbrella and ducks out into the rain. Kendall unbuckles his seatbelt, but James slams the door shut and takes off, so Kendall waits instead of following. James doesn't take long. Twelve minutes later, he's back, carrying a six-pack in each hand. He stows them in the back seat and then pulls out, back to the hotel. Kendall carries the beer and food, James carries the umbrella, and Rob is waiting for them. He hands them each a towel.

Kendall expects James to tear into the food, but he says, "I'm gonna shower," and walks to the bathroom. Kendall picks at French fries, waiting for him, and finally looks over at Rob. Rob is buried in something on his laptop. Kendall says, "Hey, how long have you worked for James?"

Rob puts his computer aside. "Oh, uh, about a year. Not quite, I guess."

"So you missed the last round of shit with his mom."

"Yeah, what... what happened?"

"Same as always with her. He got a call that she was in the drunk tank, sent bail, talked her into rehab. It was a 90-day program, and she disappeared after the first month." Kendall sighs. "She just completely vanished for awhile, he was frantic, even Dennis didn't hear from her. Eventually she turned up, though. Back at Dennis'. James tried to get her to go back to treatment, or at least to move out to his place in LA so he could keep an eye on her, but..."

"Dennis is kind of an asshole, huh?"

"Believe me," Kendall says, "you have _no_ idea. I don't think he ever... Well, I don't _think_ he ever hit her, at least not when we were kids. James would have lost his mind if he ever saw that. But I wouldn't be surprised."

"Did he ever..." Rob taps his fingers against his chair nervously. "Did he ever hit James?"

Kendall hesitates. Rob looks up. Their eyes meet. Kendall just nods.

\--

A long, hot shower has always been James' favorite luxury, but after half an hour Kendall starts to wonder. The shower is still on, but there's no other noise in the bathroom. He knocks on the door, gets no answer; he jostles the handle, but it's locked. He pounds and yells, "James!"

Rob looks at him in concern. The water shuts off, though, and James opens the door. He's only got a towel on, his eyes are bright red, and when Kendall grabs his shoulder his skin is cold and clammy. Kendall wonders how long James was really showering and how long he was just sitting there, letting the water run cold over him. He wraps his arms around James again, not caring how wet he gets, and James rests his head on Kendall's shoulder, taking deep breaths.

"You're okay, Jamie," Kendall murmurs. "C'mon, get dressed."

"And do your hair," Rob adds. "I mean, look at that mess."

For a moment Kendall is furious, but James smiles against his shoulder, just a tiny bit. Because right, Kendall's not the only one in the world who knows James, and maybe he needs some light-hearted teasing. Fury gives way to irrational jealousy as James peels away from him. It's obvious now just how close James and Rob must be, even if they aren't sleeping together, since James doesn't even blink before stripping off the towel. Kendall forces himself to look away, glances at Rob, and sees Rob is slightly pink and staring at his computer again.

James takes Rob's advice and does his hair. Kendall does let himself watch that, and it's the same lengthy, intricate process it's always been. It's comforting in its familiarity, and when he's done, James looks calmer. He sits, they eat finally, though the food is cold by now.

James finishes his burger, grabs a beer, passes one to Kendall and one to Rob before draining his and starting a second. Kendall nurses his, figuring he'll have to drive if James is getting trashed, which James definitely is. He packs away his second before leaning back in his chair, face a little flushed. "I'm tired," he says. "So fucking tired."

"This is all really draining," Rob says. "You still have a room here. You could just --"

"No," James says. "No, I'm staying with Kendall."

Kendall tries to clamp down on his relief, his irrational pride, when he hears that, just like he did with the jealousy earlier. After all these years, James shouldn't still be able to knock him off kilter, but he can't help himself. He also can't meet Rob's gaze when Rob turns to look at him and says, "Oh."

"You want to go?" Kendall asks. He squints out the window. The rain has let up.

James nods, though he's opening another drink. "Yeah. Yeah, I just want to... Rob, do I have anything warm here? It's cold out."

"Sure. Just give me a second." Rob sets his laptop aside and starts digging in James' luggage again.

"See, my flannel is practical." Kendall smirks.

James snorts. "Rob, if you packed me any flannel, you're fired."

"You don't _own_ any flannel, James."

"Right. Because I have taste. Hey, I know it's kind of last minute, but do you think you can find a realtor to meet with me tomorrow?" He pauses to swig from his drink. "After the funeral?"

"I can try," Rob says, confused. "But... I mean, don't you think you'll be pretty exhausted after?"

"Yeah, probably. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. I need to get that damn house off my hands and if I can do it tomorrow, we can be out of here Sunday morning."

"Okay," Rob says. "No promises, it's pretty last minute, but I'll see if I can set something up."

"Thanks, Rob. You're a life saver. Remind me to give you a raise."

Rob smiles. "It's no big deal, but hey, if you want to..." He straightens up and hands James a dark hoodie, black with some abstract design in silver. James pulls it on and finishes his drink, grabs the last beer from the open pack and the second one he picked up, and nods to Kendall.

"Keys," Kendall demands.

"Probably a good call." He passes them to Kendall, and pauses, looking at Rob. "I'll be by in the morning to get dressed. There's not exactly a lot to do in this town, but you should take the night off."

"I've just been playing solitaire on my laptop, actually," Rob says. "Call me if you need anything, though. I mean it, James."

James nods. Kendall thinks _he'll_ take care of anything James needs, irrational again, but reaches for the umbrella in case it starts raining again. It doesn't, thankfully. The road is still wet and not many people are out, it's dark and not late but definitely not early, either. They're almost to the residential area of town when James sits up straight in his seat and says, "Hey, turn up here."

"That's not the way home," Kendall says. But James knows that. Maybe James hasn't been here in years, but he has to know this particular fork in the road.

James just says, "Please, Kendall."

Kendall wouldn't say no to that. Probably couldn't even if he wanted to, though he doesn't know if this is a good idea. So he turns, taking the road that loops away from his house, from what he _still_ thinks of as Logan's Part of Town and toward James' Part of Town. He doesn't need James' prodding to know which turns to take. It's like the car drives itself.

The moon is out, not full, but close. The clouds have mostly drifted away, but even so, it's pretty dark out. Kendall pulls over and waits.

James stares out the window, then grabs the six-pack and gets out. Kendall follows.

There's still a sign here, hanging above what used to be the entrance. It says _Ray's Mobile Home Park_ though it's yellowed with age and neglect. It used to hang above the gravel-paved path in, but in the last eight years, the whole road has been taken over by grass and weeds. There's nothing left here but a few burnt out trailers near the back. The land used to be roughly divided in plots, each with its own driveway off the main road, but it's impossible to make them out now.

They walk in. Sometimes it's clear they're walking over an old foundation; the ground levels out for a few feet, there isn't as much grass. There are some brambly bushes, all as unkempt and overgrown as the weeds. The ground is soaking, muddy, and soon Kendall's feet are freezing through his sneakers. His breath comes out in puffs of steam. He shivers, even though he's got a winter coat on; James, with just a sweatshirt and jacket, must be freezing. He doesn't let on, though.

There are other remnants of the lives that used to be here. A cheap swing set someone had erected, toppled over and rusted out. Some silverware, an old brush with no bristles. There are footprints in the mud, too.

James finally stops, looking around, squinting into the distance. "Woulda been about here, right? I think that," he points at a small lump of ground, "might have been where the propane tank was."

"Yeah," Kendall agrees. With no trailers, no driveways, no paths, it's hard to tell where they might have lived. Kendall shivers again, but not from the cold this time. It's eerie, thinking that he lived here for eight years. James for almost thirteen. Maybe right here, even.

Kendall shudders as he looks around. The fire was probably the second most terrifying thing he can remember -- the first was thinking he'd never be able to walk again. Trailers are basically death traps when it comes to fire. Logan once said they work like cigarettes, kind of, the way air pulls fire through them or something. A few people were killed when the place went up, and the whole town reeled in horror. Everyone scrambled to help the survivors. People let them into their homes until they were back on their feet, they donated clothes and food. James may hate this town, but it _is_ a community, and it rallied together to do what it could.

James plops down on the ground, ignoring the mud and the cold. He snaps open one of the beer bottles and begins to drink. Kendall says, "You sure you wanna... we can go back to my place, it'll be warmer."

James looks up at him, drinks, shakes his head. "No. This is it. This is me. Trailer trash, right?"

"You're not..." Kendall trails off helplessly. He would never describe James as trash, any more than he would describe himself that way, or Jenny Tinkler, or any of his other friends who grew up in one of the town's trailer parks. He knows James doesn't see it that way, though. He was always ashamed of this place, always ashamed of his parents, always ashamed of his past.

"You were so lucky," James tells him abruptly. "I know your mom was broke, but she loved you. She'd do anything for you. She was... she was there."

Kendall sits next to him, wincing at the cold and the wet. He says, "Yeah, but my dad left."

"I know. I didn't mean -- just, you and Katie and your mom. You three against the world. Your mom never got so fucking lost in her problems that she made you fend for yourself. And after your dad ditched her, she didn't ever rely on anyone else again."

"Yeah," Kendall says. And he knows suddenly where this is going. "James..."

"You know what the most fucked up thing was about that night?"

That night. Kendall shivers, pretends it's from the cold. There's really only one thing James could mean by that, though he can't remember James ever talking about it directly before. He remembers it, though, with frightening, horrifying clarity.

He'd been 13. It was a Saturday. His mom was closing at the restaurant, so he was babysitting Katie, but she was already in bed -- it was after 10:00. The doorbell had rung and he'd known that was bad, because who would come by that late?

He opened it and saw James standing on the stoop. James, with his face bruised, his lip split, and spots of blood on his shirt.

His first thought had been of the backyard -- specifically, whether or not he could dig deep enough to bury a body before he hit the septic tank. James must have known what he was thinking, because he said, "No, Kendall, please. I just can't... I just need somewhere to stay. Just for tonight. Please don't tell."

And because James sounded so scared, and broken, and looked like such a mess, Kendall agreed. He's never felt good about it. He wanted to tell, knew he _should_ tell someone, but he was so scared that if he did, James would never trust him again, wouldn't come to him when he needed help. So he hadn't, and James always came to him. Still does, obviously.

In the end, he just took James inside, forced him into a borrowed set of pajamas, and pre-treated the stain on his shirt, just like his mom had taught him. He gave James Tylenol and ice, they kept quiet so they wouldn't wake up Katie, and when his mom pulled into the driveway, he told James to go wait in his room. He couldn't tell his mom James was there without explaining why, since he wasn't allowed to have friends over without her around to supervise, so he kissed her and said goodnight, then had crawled under the covers where James was waiting, curled up.

They'd had sleepovers before, occasionally in the same bed because one of them was too lazy to move. But that was the first night he ever _held_ James.

Kendall swallows. He reaches for James' beer, helps himself to a few gulps, and says, "The most fucked up thing was that he smacked you, Jamie."

James shakes his head. "No. No, the fucked up thing was that I knew... When I was running away from there, I _knew_ I should go to Carlos. Because his dad would see me, and figure it out, and would have destroyed Dennis. But I didn't. I _decided_ not to."

"Why?" Kendall asks softly.

"Because we had nowhere to go." James takes his drink back, finishes it. "Because Dennis would have thrown us out, and where the hell would we have gone?"

"James," Kendall murmurs. He feels sick just thinking about it. No kid should have to go through what James did -- and no kid should be that responsible for his family, either. But James has _always_ loved his mom, always tried to protect her. Even back then, even though it meant letting his fucking step-dad beat the crap out of him.

Voices drift towards them. Kendall goes tense, peering into the darkness. A couple of figures are sort of approaching -- not heading directly towards them, just wandering slowly. He can't make out the words, can't tell much of anything about them. But eventually they see him and James. They freeze.

James holds up a hand, holding his beer. The people come closer. Two of them, and now that Kendall can see them clearly, he sees how young they are -- definitely teenagers. Kendall scrambles up, his leg stiff and aching from the cold, and he gives James a hand. The teens stare at them.

Finally one, a girl, says, "Aren't you James Diamond?"

"Yup," James says.

"This looks weird, doesn't it?" Kendall murmurs. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and when a breeze picks up he worries a little about freezing to death.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Visiting home," James says, his voice is steadier now. Maybe the moment passed, or maybe he's just putting on a front for the people watching. Kendall hates that he can't instantly tell anymore. James gestures around. "I grew up here. Bet you kids are too young to even remember what this place was like..."

"My dad lived here," the boy volunteers. He pauses, then reaches into his pocket. "Hey, you got a light?"

Kendall shakes his head, but James searches his pockets and produces a matchbook with some hotel's logo. The kid accepts it and lights a joint. He inhales and then passes it to James, who does the same.

Kendall almost laughs. Adults in this town swoon over James, but these kids obviously don't care. He thinks back, realizes how important it would have been to _him_ not to come across as to impressed, either, when he was their age. Fawning isn't cool, and even though smoking up with a celebrity would have been the coolest thing he'd ever done -- not that he smoked back then, but still -- he would have tried so hard to pretend he didn't care.

When the joint comes to Kendall, he hesitates, then decides it doesn't matter. He takes a single hit and passes it on. It doesn't do much, but it does take the edge off. He feels less weird about standing and shivering, his jeans covered in mud.

The boy asks, "What's it like in LA?"

"Great," James says. "Sunny. And warm. I love it."

"I'm gonna move there someday," the boy says.

"Yeah, right," the girl mutters.

"Why not? It worked for _him_. I'm gonna get out of here. You'll see. I hate it here."

"I'll drink to that," James says, and stoops to pick up another of his unopened cans. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Duh," the girl says, waving the rest of the joint in front of her face. "My parents would kill me if they caught me with this shit."

"You come out here a lot?" James asks.

"Nowhere else to go." She shrugs. "We live down the way. Shelter Pines."

"Oh." James nods. "Kids come out here a lot?"

"We aren't _kids_ ," the boy says.

"Sorry." James doesn't sound sorry, though.

"I guess people hang out here," she says. "We're not supposed to, it's private property or whatever, but who cares? No one is ever here."

"Mmm." James considers that, then, to the boy, "You get good grades?"

"Huh?"

"That's how you're supposed to get out of here. Good grades. Go to college."

"Whatever," the boy says. "School sucks."

The girl snorts. " _I'm_ going to college."

"Good," Kendall says.

"Yeah," James agrees. "And -- and both of you. I mean this. If you want to get out of here, you know, get good grades, and then... if you're in LA, look me up. I'll see if I can help you."

"Seriously?" the boy asks, eyes wide.

"Sure," James says. "Why not? Lots of people helped me. Especially Kendall." He nudges Kendall with his elbow.

"You really mean it?" the girl asks.

"I really do." James pulls out his phone, asks for their names and numbers. He sends them on to Rob to keep in his contacts file, so he'll know who they are, keep his promise. The kids stare at him with giant eyes. Kendall thinks that James just changed their lives, gave them something to work towards instead of just running away.

That's something James never had. For him, getting famous was always about getting away. Money, fame, girlfriends -- all of that was just a way of putting more distance between himself and this town.

"Jamie," Kendall says eventually. "I'm fucking freezing."

"Yeah. Yeah," James says, then, to the kids, "You driving?" Two identical head shakes. "Good. Okay. Help yourself." He nudges the few remaining cans of beer with his shoe. They're lying abandoned in the mud. "Just don't be stupid. And I mean it, get your grades up."

"I will," the boy says. "Thank you, uh, Mr. Diamond."

"Oh, god. James. Just call me James," James says. He laughs and claps the boy on the shoulder, shoots the girl his most dazzling smile, and he and Kendall head back towards the car. Kendall turns on the heat, and now that they're in an enclosed space, he can smell the weed on James. He sighs and takes them home.

As they're falling asleep together, James still a little high, James says, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Hmm?" Kendall asks sleepily, and slides his hand across James' torso, feeling warm skin and defined muscles. For some reason this, curling up together, feels more intimate than sex somehow.

"You keep calling me Jamie. You haven't since I was a kid."

"Don't know," Kendall admits and thinks about it. It just feels right. It's that when James is like this, vulnerable, _not_ putting on a front, he seems young. Like the kid Kendall remembers, not the celebrity the rest of the world knows. Maybe that's silly or stupid, but this is his Jamie, the wrecked boy who showed up on his doorstep. He's not the world's James Diamond. Not right now.

"You mind?" Kendall murmurs, not even sure if James is awake.

James slurs, "Never minded b'fore," and rolls over, pulling Kendall into his arms.

They drift off like that.

\--

Thankfully, Saturday is clearer, no rain. It actually feels like the first real spring day; there's a breeze, but it doesn't have that winter bite. There will probably be crocuses coming up through the mud in a week or so. Kendall dresses hurriedly in his own dark suit and drives James to the hotel. James is quiet, his expression distant. At the hotel, James showers, makes himself presentable, puts on a sharp, black suit. Kendall is ashamed of just how gorgeous he thinks James is when he's dressed up, because that's really, really not what's important now.

The funeral itself is short. Only a handful of people turn up, and there are some photographers. Kendall clenches a fist, glares at them, and notices Rob is doing the same thing. James doesn't even glance at them. He has more important things to think about, Kendall knows, but it still pisses him off. James is here to bury his mom, and he doesn't really need the world to see it. He sure as hell doesn't want the world poking around, asking questions about her.

Dennis stands up to say a few words about her. He looks dreadful. Hungover, Kendall thinks angrily. Which is hypocritical, sure. James spent last night drunk and high. But James is always careful, never goes too far even though addiction obviously runs in his family. He's never ruined anyone else's life.

When it's James' turn to speak, he looks haunted. Far away. He talks about how much he loves her, misses her, how hard she worked to deal with the hardships in her life. He talks about how she picked up extra hours at the bar where she worked when he was a kid, so she could pay for his voice lessons and hockey equipment. Kendall had forgotten that, wonders if he's been too harsh on her, and looks down, ashamed.

James sinks down in his seat when he finishes, leaning on Kendall's shoulder. Rob sits on his other side, looking awkward, out of place. Rob never met Mrs. Diamond. Kendall wonders what he must think.

They make their way to the cemetery. Her coffin is lowered down, the headstone is already in place. James stands and watches as the grave is filled in. Dennis is there, too, but he's silent and keeps his distance. Kendall watches him out of the corner of his eye. He tries to force himself to feel something other than rage at the man -- empathy, compassion, something kind. He just lost his wife, after all, and maybe... Kendall tries to tell himself that Dennis loved _her_ , even though he never loved James. Never had anything but rage and contempt for James, a boy he thought was too pretty.

Kendall can't manage it, though. He's the one who picked James up and put him back together every time Dennis broke him into pieces. He's the one who knew James' bruises weren't always from being too aggressive in hockey practice. He's the one who gave James his spare housekey so he'd always have somewhere safe to go. He's the one who should have called the cops, who should have done more, who should have _saved_ James. He can't do anything but hate Dennis, and he can't do anything but hate himself right now.

When the grave is filled in, James sets some more flowers down on it. He kneels there, never mind the mud on his perfect suit. He rests his hands in it, his eyes shut gently. When he stands up, he brushes his hands off on his pants. He murmurs something, Kendall thinks it's, "Goodbye," but he's too far away to hear. Then he walks over to Dennis.

Kendall starts forward, but it's only a few seconds. James says something. Dennis nods. James walks away, towards Kendall and Rob. He says, "I want to change before we meet the real estate people. Dennis will be there in 45 minutes. Let's go."

Kendall drives them, and James stares out the window. Kendall feels kind of awkward in his suit, since James and Rob both change, James into his usual jeans, designer t-shirt, jacket, and flashy sneakers; and Rob into a sweater and slacks, preppie as hell, but also kind of cute, in a glasses-wearing, ivy league school way. Kendall doesn't have time to go home and change, so he just takes off the suit jacket and tie, pops open his top button and rolls up his sleeves.

The realtor is a middle-aged woman. She smiles a saleswoman smile at James, shakes hands with all of them.

"Thanks for the short notice," James says. "I'm not selling anything, I just want to turn over ownership, but I'm happy to pay whatever your fee or percentage is. I just want to get this done quickly."

"Of course," she says. "Your assistant let me know, I've got all the paperwork ready. If you just want to have a seat here?"

James nods. He starts filling out forms at her desk, and she offers them coffee and snacks. Kendall stands by the wall, alternately watching out the window and watching James. He sees it when Dennis pulls into the parking lot. Dennis comes into the office a few minutes later. The realtor hands him the papers he needs, the ones James has already taken care of. He signs them silently, and they just sit like that until James is finally done.

"That's that," James says.

Dennis nods, signs something, and stands up. He turns to go.

"Are you even going to thank him?" Kendall snaps.

"It was my house," Dennis says. "I let him live there, didn't I?"

Kendall doesn't even know what he's going to say, but his mouth opens. James cuts him off. "Forget him, Kendall. Forget it. It's done."

Kendall glares, and Dennis leaves. The realtor clears her throat awkwardly. James smiles at her -- a smile from James can make anyone forget to ask awkward questions -- and he grabs for his checkbook. "Thanks so much for taking care of this," he says.

"Oh, of course, Mr. Diamond. My pleasure."

"James, please. I'm kind of on a first-name basis with the whole world." Another smile, and he hands her the check for her fee.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asks.

James shakes his head, then stops. He settles back in the chair and says, "Maybe."

Kendall blinks. He glances at Rob, who looks just as confused as he feels.

James continues: "There's this field, south of town. Used to be a trailer park. Does Ray still own that, do you know?"

"Let me check some things," she says. "I don't think so, though." She grabs something from her filing cabinet, looks through it, and shakes her head. "No, he lost it after the fire, couldn't pay all the fines and insurance and everything. It belongs to the county now."

"Is it for sale?" James asks.

"Should be. I think they just want it off their hands. No developers want to go near that part of town..."

"I'll buy it," James says.

She clears her throat. "Certainly, if you want, but if you're planning to build a house, or... there are _much_ nicer areas."

He gives a short bark of laugh. "Oh, believe me, I know that. I grew up there."

"Oh! I didn't mean..."

"It's fine. It was a shithole then, too. But it was home." He leans back in the chair. "I want to buy it and build a park, I think. A playground or something. I know kids will still go smoke up there at night, but at least it'll give some of them a place to play or run around or whatever."

"I can put in the offer, but it'll take some time to go through," she says. "I mean, since it's the government and everything..."

"That's fine," James says. "I'll fax anything you need, if that's okay, and if it's not..." He glances at Kendall. "I don't spend much time here, but I could probably squeeze in a few hours, if I have to sign stuff or whatever. I'll just make Kendall take me out for dinner."

Kendall adds, "Turning it into a park is going to take some actual work too, you know. You might have to drop by and check on it. Oh yeah, and one of us has five houses, and it's not me. _You_ can pay for dinner."

James actually laughs -- not manic, not forced, not angry. Just a laugh, between friends. "You're on, Knight. It's a date." He stands up, shakes the realtor's hand. "You can call Rob with any details, just let us know."

"I will. And, um," she coughs, "would you mind if I took a... a picture? It would be nice to have in the office. Our local celebrity..."

"Local kid made good," James drawls. "Sure, why not?" He slings an arm around her, smiles while Rob takes a picture. It'll be yet another local business to get a bump from James' presence.

"You up for some more skating?" James asks Kendall.

"Always," Kendall says, grinning at him, because he can feel something is different. With the weight of his mom's addiction off him, with Dennis out of his life forever, James walks with his head held up a little higher. Maybe he's not running away anymore, either. Maybe it's possible that James Diamond has finally just come to terms with how he grew up.

"Come with us," James says to Rob.

"I'm not much of a skater. And I bet the rink is busier today..."

"Yeah," Kendall says, but to his surprise, he's not jealous at James' invitation. "It's almost the end of the season, it's nice out. People will realize we're about to close and it'll be mobbed."

"I don't mind," James says. "And Rob, come on, it's just for fun."

Rob shrugs, says, "If you say so, sure," and Kendall drives them to the hotel to get James' skates, and then to the rink. He jumps behind the counter to grab a pair for Rob, who totters on them hilariously, and he puts on his own. His leg twinges, he won't be able to stay long, but at least today isn't about James outracing his grief and his anger.

They hit the ice. People gasp and wave and James threads through them slowly, stopping to chat, smiling. People take pictures from the box at the edge of the ice, and he waves and grins. Between fans, he grabs Rob on one side, Kendall takes his other, and they pull Rob around with them. Some girls are doing jumps and turns in the middle of the rink, out of the way of everyone skating laps. James claps for them and they all blush and giggle.

A few people strike up conversations with Kendall; almost everyone here knows him, knows this is his place. Even though Steph will murder him for what it costs, he eventually makes his way to the loudspeaker and offers everyone free cocoa. Why the hell not?

James signs dozens of autographs, smiles for dozens of photos. Kendall marvels again at his patience. He slides back behind the counter, helping out the part-timer who works there as they sell more concessions and deal with skate returns. James eventually makes his way over and laughs. "You really love this place, don't you?"

Kendall doesn't know if he means the rink or the town. Either way, he nods. "It's home, Jamie."

"I guess it is. Hey, let's go get dinner. C'mon." He pulls Kendall and Rob away. They finally stop off at Kendall's house, so he can change out of his nice clothes, while Rob takes the place in.

The restaurant is just as crazy as the rink was, and James is just as great. Kendall remembers what he thought when he first saw Rob, that James likes to surround himself with people who adore him.

They finally get back to the hotel. Kendall hesitates in the driver's seat, waiting to see if James gets out or not. He's not kidding himself -- he loves James, but he knows James has been sleeping with him (literally and figuratively) because he's needed help. Now that he's feeling better...

Rob climbs out and glances at them. "I'll get our stuff packed for the flight tomorrow. And I'll text you when I'm on my way to pick you up tomorrow, okay?"

James nods. "Thanks."

Rob looks back and forth between James and Kendall, and smiles. "Have a nice night, you two."

Kendall flushes, but James leans across the space between them and kisses him. Right there in the car. He's never done that in public before, and it only lasts a split second. Kendall's face is bright red and James laughs and says, "You know I love you, Kendall, right?"

Kendall smiles and says, "I know, Jamie."

And later, in bed, it isn't desperate and needy, it's just fun and satisfying and hot as hell. It's him and James.

\--

Kendall's mom makes them breakfast in the morning, and Kendall's glad she doesn't ask about the red mark on his neck. Rob texts while James is in the shower, and because he's James, he's still in the shower when Rob shows up. So Kendall invites him in for a cup of coffee.

Kendall's mom hands him his cup and says, "Thank you for taking such good care of James."

"Oh, um." Rob blushes. "It's just my job. And I like working for him. He's... he's great."

"Well, I'm off for my book club. Be good, kids," she says, just like she did when Kendall was twelve and babysitting Katie. He chuckles softly, but then actually looks at Rob, who's blushing again.

"Am I that obvious?" Rob asks.

"Yeah, but it's fine. Everyone falls in love with James," Kendall says.

"Even you?"

"When I was thirteen," Kendall admits.

"So are you two..."

"No. Sometimes. It's complicated," Kendall says. "He needs me, but we're so different, and we want different things, and..." He thinks of Steph and the future he kind of wants, but that he knows he'll push aside if James ever asks him. He shakes his head. "Just do yourself a favor. No matter how much you love him, don't let that be your whole life."

Rob doesn't answer that, just drinks his coffee, and Kendall does the same. He wonders if he's crazy. He must be -- two days ago, James was throwing him at Steph, and James _has_ to know that Kendall will only have one or the other. He's not his father, he wouldn't get married and try to have a family and then run out. So if it's Steph, that's the end of whatever this is with James.

James finally comes out, dressed like his usual rockstar self, complete with sunglasses and a wrist cuff and his trademark Buster Clydes. He looks so goddamn good, but it makes Kendall realize how stupid he is, because _this_ is James. This is the world's James Diamond, gorgeous and famous and always busy. He doesn't date often, but when he does it's publicly, always women, always a little scandalous. He has a career to worry about, and Kendall doesn't fit into it. Not to mention that Kendall has his own life here and no interest in going back to LA. He's got his rink, his mom, his friends. Community. If he ever goes after it, a future.

"We should get going," Rob says.

"Yeah. Yeah," James agrees. But he grabs Kendall and pulls him out of his chair, kisses him right there in front of Rob. "Thank you for... I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"It's what I'm here for," Kendall says.

"I'm going to be okay, though," James says, and it's like he's read Kendall's mind. "I love you. I do, Kendall, so goddamn much. But I can't... I'm not... You've done so fucking much for me, I could never ask you to wait until I _can_. You deserve your life, too."

Kendall swallows. Being dumped stings, even though they weren't ever really together. But he has a sudden flash of James standing on his doorstep that night -- his Jamie, bruised and bleeding, but willing to sacrifice himself for his mother's sake. He knows that's the man standing in front of him. Someone who loves him, who probably _does_ want to be with him, but who won't ask him to just stay and wait. Because if James asks, Kendall will do it, and they both know it. And it isn't fair to Kendall.

So Kendall says, "You know I love you, though, right?"

"Of course I do," James says. He kisses Kendall again.

"And you'll always be family," Kendall says. Maybe he and James are done in one way, but nothing will ever, ever change that. "And I'll always be here when you need me."

James nods. "It goes both ways. You never seem to need me, but you're my family too. Practically all I've got. So I'm talking forever."

"I know," Kendall says. And he does. He knows if he ever needs James, James will drop everything for him -- cancel concerts, fly back from wherever he is, and be there.

"I should go," James mumbles.

"Yeah," Kendall says. "Yeah." But still, he kisses James one last time. It's long and lingering and it means _goodbye_. And when they break apart, James steps back a step and so does Kendall.

Rob stands up awkwardly, not looking at them, and heads for the door. He says, "Thanks for the coffee. It was nice to meet you, Kendall."

"You, too. Take care," Kendall answers, though what he means is _take care of James_.

James pauses in the doorway, looks back at Kendall. He gives Kendall a smile, but it's not his dazzling one. It's small and it's private. Then James follows Rob out, shutting the door behind him.

Kendall watches them through the window as they pile into the rental car and head off to the airport. He mumbles, "Goodbye," to the disappearing car. Then he turns away from the window and cleans up the dishes from breakfast, sits down at the kitchen table, and calls Steph.


End file.
